


More Things in Heaven and Earth

by Medie



Series: Nora-verse [4]
Category: CSI: NY, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Demons, wendigos, werewolves..." she grins. "Vampires. Not exactly standard fare for a CSI now is it?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Things in Heaven and Earth

**Author's Note:**

> written from a prompt by [](http://noelia-g.livejournal.com/profile)[**noelia_g**](http://noelia-g.livejournal.com/) for my [Advent Meme](http://medie.livejournal.com/1463994.html) with the prompt "SPN/CSI (Vegas or NY) Sam &amp; Dean, John, or Nora &amp; Jo meeting up with CSI 'verse characters. I took a bit of a risk with the POV. I've never written this one before.

The bodies are in pieces. Animal attack, an officer says, had to be right? Nothing else could have done this. You listen and look at the blood on the ceiling, on the walls, beneath your feet. Frowning, you look at Stella.

She looks back. Tilts her head quizzically, curls spilling across her shoulder, she waits for your answer. You say nothing and cast a glance at your feet. A Bratz doll lies there, broken and baptized in the blood of its owner, parts of whom lie scattered around you. Indistinguishable from those of her parents.

Stella is still watching when you lift your head. You look past her, eyes taking in the slashes on the walls and ruined furniture. There's purpose in them. Pattern. You picture a family driven mad from terror, unable to escape through the open window before them.

You shake your head. No animal did this.

When you were in the Marines, you saw things. Things that no one acknowledged, but everyone saw. You think of the bombing and lying on the floor of the barracks, covered in the blood of your friends. You can still see the strange, pale-faced man in the suit picking his way through the dead and dying. Remember the way he looked at you right before he touched the man dying in your arms.

You feel the way he'd shuddered his last.

"No," you say. "No, it wasn't."

-

You leave Stella and Sheldon to collect evidence. Lindsay you send downtown on a break and enter with Danny. You're not trying to shelter her, but with the trial fresh in her mind it seems prudent. She doesn't protest and Danny nods as they pass.

Stepping outside, you tilt your head to look up. Beyond the skyscrapers you see a bright, sunny day. It feels obscene. You feel eyes on you and look at the gathered crowd. An officer is snapping casual photos. Procedure. With a homicide like this, the perp might want to stay and enjoy the show.

Your stomach twists, fury simmering, but you show no sign. You look the crowd over, eyes traveling the faces until you find the one you're looking for. The woman looking at you. She's young. Not thirty yet. A younger woman stands at her side. They're comfortable together. Body language suggests physical intimacy and you nod. The younger one, the blonde, stretches up to say something. You can't read her lips, she angles her body to shield her mouth. You almost nod in approval, except you need to know what she's saying.

The older woman nods, but keeps her eyes on you. The look in them is startling. She knows. Your gut says she's not involved, not like that, but she knows. You look through the shadows in her gaze and see a knowledge that's familiar. You wonder if, maybe, she's seen the things you've seen.

She smiles. It's a wry, bitter thing that speaks of nightmares and loss. You realize she's seen worse.

You tilt your head, gesturing to an alley just beyond the police tape. You're not surprised when she nods.

-

They're waiting when you get there. "Detective?" she asks.

You nod. "Taylor."

"Right," she looks you over. You're being appraised..You're not the first cop she's dealt with. Your fingers itch with the urge to print her. Something tells you the record you'd get back would make for interesting reading. "Nora."

Her companion looks startled, making a warning noise in the back of her throat.

"Relax, Jo," says Nora, amused. "He's not going to say anything. Right, Detective Taylor?" She nods upward, her eyes indicating the apartment over their heads. You nod.

"It wasn't an animal," you say.

"Not in the conventional sense, no," Nora shakes her head. "You've seen this before." It's not a question.

You find yourself telling her about Lebanon and the bombing, about the man you saw, and she nods. Adrenaline surges through you, your heart rate picking up, when you realize she knows what it was.

"Reaper," Jo suggests, looking sideways at Nora. Neither of them trusts you. They stay carefully out of reach. The way they move suggests that if you tried to take them in, you'd have one hell of a fight on your hands. You wonder how many people have made that mistake. "Had to be."

"Yeah," Nora says. "Not much else that it could."

"A reaper?" you ask.

"Like the song," she says. "Death. In your line of work, you two are probably well acquainted."

Probably. You turn, gesturing at the apartment. "Did a reaper do that?"

Jo shakes her head. "No. Reapers don't murder. They come for the already dying. This was something else."

"Do you know what?"

"Not yet," Nora says. "We need to get in there and take a look around. That'll give us a good idea."

"You can't," you say. "It's a crime scene."

"All due respect, Detective," she says, "that's never stopped me before."

"You can't stop this," Jo adds. She looks sympathetic. "I know you think you should, Detective Taylor, but you can't. The thing that killed that family can't be put in handcuffs. It can't be stopped by a jail cell. The only thing that stops these things is killing them. You can try, but it will just kill you and then keep on killing."

You frown, realizing their intent. "You can't – "

"This isn't a part of your world, Detective," interrupts Nora. "Demons, wendigos, werewolves..." she grins. "Vampires. Not exactly standard fare for a CSI now is it?" Her amusement rankles. You want to argue, but that blood-soaked apartment keeps you silent. The empty eyes of that not-man in Lebanon.

You're a man who goes with the evidence, even when the evidence tells you something fantastical.

"This is insane," you say.

Nora's expression hardens. "No. This is the real world, Detective. Not the fairytale people tell themselves so they can sleep at night." Her words lash your skin like a whip, but you don't protest. You've been telling yourself those stories since Lebanon.

You think of the unsolved cases on the books. How many of those have their very own nightmare lurking in the wings?

"I can't help you," but you want to.

They smirk.

"We're not asking," says Jo.

-

You're called to the DA's office on an unrelated matter. When you come back, Flack's outside talking to a couple uniforms.

"Have fun in the ivory tower?" he asks, grinning.

You smile. "Stella and Sheldon still inside?"

"Nah, they left a while ago," he says. "Just a couple techs left in there now."

You frown. "Techs?"

"Yeah," Flack's grin widens. "Newbies. You recruiting from Victoria's Secret, Mac? Those two were – " he whistles.

You grin. "When did they get here?"

"Not that long ago," Flack's grin fades as he looks at you. "Something wrong, Mac?"

"No," you say. "Just expecting them earlier."

-

They're gone when you reach the apartment, but you expected that. You also don't expect to hear from them again.

You can't be right about everything.

-

"So there's this guy," says Nora.

It's three o'clock in the morning and you're bleary-eyed. Holding the phone loosely, you roll over and fumble for the light. "It's New York City, Ms. Scott, there are a lot of guys."

She's silent for a moment. "Google?"

You chuckle. There's approval in the question. You scored points. "Old boy's club."

She laughs. "Marines."

Sitting up, you scratch your head. "Okay, so there's a guy."

"Yeah," her tone shifts. Brisk and professional. "He was behind it all. Murder by demonic proxy."

You skip over the 'demonic' part. "Any evidence?"

"Enough," she says, too innocent. "It'll hold up in court."

"Do I want to know?" you ask.

She chuckles. "Probably not, but relax. He won't ever do it again."

You shiver. You've never been easily intimidated. It isn't in your nature, but you are now. "Are you all right?"

"A few bumps and bruises," she says. "Nothing I'm not used to."

"Jo?"

"Sleeping like a baby." Nora's voice softens. You smile. "She took a bump to the head, but she'll be fine. She's tougher than she looks."

"You both are," you say. "Be careful."

"Oh, I'm always careful," she says. You don't believe her, but you won't insult her by worrying. She can take care of herself. "You do the same, Detective. It's been a while since I met a cop willing to listen."

"Who says I did?" you ask.

She snickers. "I know you're going to trace this number. It's my cell. Keep it. New York's a big city. This kind of thing happens a lot."

You smile. "Are you proposing a partnership?"

"You wish," she teases. "Jo got there first."

"She's a lucky woman," you say and mean it.

"No," Nora says. "I am. Take care, Mac."

She hangs up.

-

Flack arrests the suspect an hour later.

-

Six months and a woman is murdered. Her daughter insists Daddy did it, but Daddy's been dead for three years.

-  
You call Nora and Jo.


End file.
